Turning Points
by morning sunlight
Summary: A series of snapshots of turning points in the lives of the Winchesters. Dipping in and out of their lives looking at different viewpoints. It is now finished and it is also all preseries.
1. Dean's introduction

**Turning Points - 1

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**Disclaimer**: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

**Summary**: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters

**Author's Note**: This is the first in what I hope will be a series of snapshots of the Winchesters – Dean seems to be figuring heavily in the ideas in progress so far but at least one will be Mary and who knows what else might happen!

Thank you for taking the time to read my little fic and if you could spare the time to let me know what you think (positive criticism welcomed) I will try to improve and keep going. And so to the fic…

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_**Turning Points – Introduction - Dean**_

Dean had been driving for more miles than he could keep track of, more hours than he wanted to count, along a road that was straight and unchanging into the distance and had been so for miles behind.

There was no sign of human life in any direction – the only signs that there ever had been humans were the unending black of the road and the regulation rows of the crops on either side.

It struck him that his life was not unlike the road journey – endless, unchanging as he aimed to a goal. Then all of a sudden the road would come to a junction and he would have to turn, left or right, one choice or the other. A turning point. His life was like that.

There had never been any opportunity to try things out to see if they suited. Each choice, left or right, north or south, black or white, Sam or Dad. Not a balance, but a decision, no u-turns allowed.

He supposed it had probably been the same for the rest of his family.


	2. Dean: starting out with Sammy

**Turning Points - 2

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**Disclaimer**: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

**Summary**: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters

**Author's Note**: This is the second in what is becoming a series of snapshots of the Winchesters – as with the first this is written about Dean but the next one is another family member.

Thank you for taking the time to read my little fic and if you could spare the time to let me know what you think (positive criticism welcomed) I will try to improve and keep going. And so to the fic…

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**_Turning Points – Dean_**

Dean supposed there had been turning points all through his life but the first one that really stuck out in his mind, the first time his life had come to the end of a road and turned onto a new one was when Sam was born.

He had stopped being Dean, the only focus of his parents' attention and had had to share that attention with a little squalling bundle. There had been moments of jealousy, moments of annoyance and frustration, but not many in the grander scheme of his life. His parents still showered him with affection and shared with him the joy of the new baby, the pride at each new achievement of Sam's; first smile, first smile, first time he recognised each of them. With each of Sam's achievements, they relived Dean's and told him what he had been like when he was small. It reassured him that he was still important to them.

The turn from only child to older brother had been a good one. One that Dean had no regrets about – he just wished it could have been an easier journey from there on for him and Sam.

The next turning point was not so easy. The next one had been Mom dying, that one Dean did wish could have been different. Given the opportunity, he would have changed that one.


	3. Mary: a mother's view

**Turning Points - 3

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**Disclaimer**: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

**Summary**: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters

**Author's Note**: This is the third in what is becoming a series of snapshots of the Winchesters – A turning point for Mary this time.

Please let me know what you think (positive criticism welcomed) I will try to improve and keep going. And so to the fic…

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_**Turning Points – Mary **_

Mary wished things could have been different. The end of the road had been reached, a new direction had to be chosen and she had made the choice. As a mother it was simple: her or her boys; so no choice, just a turning point.

She hadn't known what the repercussions would be. She knew she had made the right choice but naively thought once the initial furore had passed, her boys would have the good life she and John had planned. But it wasn't like that. She watched and she saw.

She realises now that she hadn't been the only one reaching the end of a road and turning. Her John's road had ended as well, maybe that was the result of her choice, but faced with his choice, he had made a decision. She watched and she understood, but she would have chosen differently.

She didn't like to see her family living from a car, moving from place to place, not always even getting a room in a motel. She saw her babies learning to fight, use knives and guns. She watches and knows it is not what she wanted for them.

She sees her little chatterbox go silent and withdrawn; the only time he speaks is in whispers to his baby brother late in the night. She sees as, gradually, necessity forces him to speak again. She sees he's not the same anymore, innocence stolen. She watches and she wants to go back.

She sees her tiny baby grow, his brother's shadow. She knows he needs a parent's love and tenderness and wishes she could be there, that she could give it, for John's chosen path is rocky and rough and he has forgotten the tenderness he showed the boys when she was there with him. He has not realised that the boys still need this. She sees her eldest, remembering the love and tenderness pass it forward to his brother. She watches and is proud.

She sees her boys go to school, she sees them learn avidly and attentively, soaking up knowledge, fascinated by all there is to learn. She sees her eldest watch the children around him and realise he is different. She sees him watch the families with interest and curiosity. She knows he learns how other families work with the same fascination that he learns his lessons in school. She sees him resigned to his difference. She recognises his choice for his brother as he tries to provide for him the 'family' the other children have. She watches and she is sad. She had hoped John would do that for her boys.

She sees her youngest thirst for knowledge and from it develop a thirst for 'normal'. She sees him rebel against his father and his life. She watches and knows that this son might achieve what she had hoped for her family.

She watches and realises that she had had an earlier road, an earlier choice than the one she thought made the difference. That choice was made when she asked the elder of her sons to always love and protect the younger. He chose, small as he had been, to do as she had asked. That choice made now neither could have 'normal'. The elder sacrificed to provide and protect the younger, the younger reliant on his brother, incomplete now without him.

She watches always and wishes. She wishes the choices could have led to a different place.

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_**Author's Note: **Had this ready to go up a couple of days ago, but computer problems being what they are - it's here now. I've already started on the next one which is about John. I would appreciate some feedback, as I'm not sure this is working and I am redrafting the next one yet again without finishing it._


	4. John: In the beginning

**Turning Points - 4

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**Disclaimer**: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

**Summary**: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters

**Author's Note**: This is the four in what is becoming a series of snapshots of the Winchesters – A look at some of John's life changing decisions.

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Please let me know what you think (positive criticism welcomed – seem to be plenty of people hitting the page but not many reviews so far so I don't know whether the later parts are any good.) I will try to improve and take on suggestions and keep going. And so to the fic…

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**_Turning Points – John _**

Ten minutes after meeting Mary, John realised his life was going to change in a big way soon.

Fifteen minutes after meeting Mary, John realised he was wrong. His life wasn't going to change anytime soon. He was late in his prediction; in fact he hadn't even made a prediction because his life had already changed by the time he realised change was possible. The change happened ten minutes ago when his friend Tom had gone to get another round at the bar, taking Mary's friend Sara along too, and had left him here to talk to Mary alone.

He'd never believed in love at first sight, but this was… well… he didn't actually know what it was but he certainly wanted to spend more time with her and find out.

John had never given much thought to settling down, marriage and kids. He'd always felt a bit reticent around the women he met in bars, not really sure of himself but something about Mary put him at ease.

In truth, he hadn't given much thought to any kind of future. He was just a 'take life one day at a time' kind of guy. He realised that he would actually like to have a future with someone like Mary. He could imagine a life, a family with someone like her. Geez, he almost didn't recognise himself.

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John looked at his wife, tired but content. He saw the fascination in her eyes as she watched the baby in her arms asleep. He thought back to that night he had met Mary in the bar and his life had changed. He remembered that it had been the first time he had considered the future beyond the immediate and that it had been the first time he had considered a future that involved kids and now look here he was – husband and father. He wouldn't have believed just how good it could feel. His wife. His baby. His life.

There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep them safe and happy. He wanted to savour every moment and wanted every moment to be filled with the feelings he had now. Realistically, he knew the baby was going to cry sometimes, and sometimes they weren't going to know why, and that sometimes they were going to be exhausted because the baby was going to keep them up. He knew he was going to have to work overtime to buy all the things the baby was going to need, they weren't always going to have enough money to be really comfortable but he would make sure that they had enough to be okay.

'Dean,' said Mary, 'I think he looks like a Dean.'

'Dean's good. Was it in that book of names you were looking at?'

'Good? Is that all?' Mary smiled.

'I like it.'

'It means leader.'

'Sounds good. Not one to be pushed around when he gets to school.'

Mary smiled again, laughing gently at her husband and looked down at the baby, 'Hi there, Dean.'

The baby slept on and John silently promised he would help his son be strong enough to face the world, to be the leader his name suggested. He promised again, as he had done on the day he married Mary, that he would love his wife, the mother of his beautiful boy, until his dying breath. Some things changed and some never did.

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John helped Dean out of the car and began the walk into the hospital. 'Now remember kiddo, really quiet and really calm okay.'

Dean nodded but John could feel the excitement vibrating through his son's body where he held his hand. 'Big brothers have to be careful, it's their job to make sure that little brothers are well looked after.'

'I know. I can do it. I promise.'

John looked down into Dean's earnest eyes and saw the promise there and repeatedly etched in every inch of the body walking at his side. He reached down and swung his young son, now his eldest but now longer his only, up into his arms. 'Let's go meet your little brother shall we?'

'What's his name? How long will it be before he'll want to play?'

John laughed, 'His name's Samuel and you'll have to wait a while for him to play your games but you'll be able to help him play with his toys before that but it'll still be a little while.'

'Do I have to call him Samuel? Sammy is nicer. I'll teach him everything I know.'

'Sammy sounds good, maybe Mom and I will call him that too sometimes.'

John kissed the top of his head as they made their way to the room in which Mary and Sammy waited for them. Dean would lead the way and Sammy would follow. John hoped that would last. The willingness to love that Dean had came straight from Mary, open and giving. John hoped nothing would change that about Dean, but equally that it wouldn't lead him to be hurt.

In his heart, John promised he would help his eldest son grow into the man he could be and that he would protect his youngest from the world beyond the family. He promised again, as he had done on the day he married Mary and the day she had Dean, that he would love his wife, the mother of his boys, until his dying breath. Some things changed and some never did.

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Mere months later, he watched as the fire crews tried to put the fire out. He looked at the baby in his arms, calm and asleep now. The last thing Mary had given him. He promised her he would treasure him and protect him, that he and Dean would make sure no harm came to her baby. He glanced down at Dean, curled into his side, clinging to his arm, eyes wide and staring but not yet crying and said, 'You'll have to always be good now Dean. Sammy is going to need you to help him.'

'Mom…' it was almost a whisper. John could see the tears brimming and knew he couldn't do anything to stop them. He couldn't put anything right about this night but he couldn't handle the tears.

'No, it's just us. Mom would want us to be strong, to be men and to look after Sammy, he's only a baby.' Dean nodded, wiped his eyes and went back to staring silently at the house.

John wanted to break down, he wanted to cry and scream, he wanted to rush back into the house, to die with Mary but instead he promised her he would bring her boys up to be strong, he would teach them to protect themselves. He promised for a final time, as he had done three times before, that he would love his wife, the mother of his boys, until his dying breath. Some things changed and some never did.

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_**Author's Note:** I am starting with the next chapter, which will be some of Sam's turning points I think. Like I said before, please do review - it helps._


	5. Sam: Growing up and Breaking out

**Turning Points - 5

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**Disclaimer**: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

**Summary**: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters

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**Author's Note**: This is the fifth in what has become a series of snapshots of the Winchesters – A look at some of Sam's life changing decisions. Hmmm! So, in honesty, I'm not so happy with this chapter, this feeling I've missed the mark…

**_Please review._** Let me know does this chapter actually work or is my feeling of discontent with it right!

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**_Turning Points – Sam _**

Sam knew that his life would have changed drastically the night his mother died, the night his family was torn apart, but he also knew that in reality, he was too young to recognise that change or even to know what he had lost. For Sam, life's constant was Dean and Dad, they came as a pair, pillars either side to support Sam as he grew. There was no one place, no one school, no one set of friends. Life was just Sam, Dean and Dad.

Sam had always known his family was different to others and that there was more to the difference than just not having a mom. Other kids only had one parent so something else made his family different. It had been a surprise to find that other children stayed at the same school year after year. Half the time, he and Dean were lucky to make a whole semester in the same school. He wasn't sure even that accounted for the difference.

So the first change in his life was not so much a change, more an awakening, a realisation. The change was internal and gradually building.

The change started when Dad didn't come home when he said he would. What should have been a frightening scenario wasn't. Everything was fine because Dean made sure it was. Sam realised then that Dean had been doing just that for as long as he could remember and that the constant in his life was Dean, the parent in his life was Dean. Dad was now a shadow, hovering, making sure Dean did the right thing but actually abdicating responsibility for Sam to his brother.

The wedge was placed, it just needed to be driven home. Sam pondered the possibility that Dad blamed him for Mom dying above him, but actually on watching him further he realised that wasn't it. Dad only spent time with Dean to tell him what to do, how to do something new or to tell him what he'd done wrong. He didn't spend time talking or playing with Dean, he wasn't treating him any better. The longer Dad stayed away, the more time Sam spent thinking about the situation Dad left him and Dean in. The longer he had to think about it, the more he was angry that Dad expected Dean to look after him; he wasn't being fair to either of them. The hammer tapped the wedge and the cracks began to appear.

Dad had been away and Sam had been in school when his class had had a talk from the teacher about keeping safe. The teacher had told them never to talk to strangers, always to let their parents know where they were and to make sure they were home on time. That afternoon, when Dean picked him up to go home after school, Sam had told him about the talk. He'd been surprised by Dean's response, 'Your teacher's right, Sammy. You shouldn't talk to anyone or go anywhere without telling me first.'

Sam remembered the way he had looked at Dean and the question that came, 'But Dean, who makes sure you're okay and home on time?'

'Dad does, Sammy, you know that.'

'But, Dean, Dad's away again. So what happens now?' Sam knew he'd watched Dean as he'd tried to work out how to answer that one.

'Sammy, you got me, and you're not on your own.'

With frustration growing, Sam knew Dean was avoiding answering what he really wanted to know, 'Dean, don't you think Dad should be home and looking after us? I bet the other kids in your class don't have to look after their younger brothers like you look after me.'

'Yeah, well maybe I like it this way. Now what do you want to eat tonight?' Sam knew then the conversation was finished, he wasn't going to get an answer from Dean. Dean wasn't going to criticise Dad, he wasn't going to make out he didn't want to look out for Sam. A small part of him was grateful that Dean had said what he had. Sam knew that Dean meant it when he said he liked looking after him and it brought him a measure of relief that his young mind couldn't quite get to grips with.

Sam had known then, most kids were at the front of their parents' priorities. He was at the front of Dean's but he wasn't sure where he or his brother were in his Dad's priorities. It wasn't that they didn't feature, more that he wasn't sure they were at the top. In fact he couldn't be sure they were even near the top. Somehow, he just couldn't forgive his father for that. Tap went the hammer on the wedge.

When Sam realised how much of his life was a secret that couldn't be talked about at school, he began to wonder why. It wasn't until Children's Services came to talk to him and he didn't know what to say that he was actually frightened by the secrets. It was then that he found out that people didn't let their children stay home alone and certainly wouldn't let a child of Dean's age look after a younger brother. He didn't say anything to the social workers but when they got home and were alone in their room, he asked Dean about it. Dean had told him not to worry, he liked looking out for him but that hadn't been the answer he wanted but Dean wouldn't be drawn on whether it was right or not and just kept changing the subject until Sam gave up. When he'd spoken to Dad about it, he'd been cross and said there were two choices, staying with Dean and staying in school or going with Dad and not going to school. The hammer knocked the wedge further in and the cracks spread wider.

Sam loved school, there was a whole world of knowledge out there and he just couldn't wait to find out more about everything. Libraries were also high on his list of good places to be. He knew Dad thought he was wasting his time with most of his studies but liked him to research their cases in the local libraries, encouraged him to do it well. He thought it was ironic that he had finally found something to do that his Dad approved of and something that he was better at than Dean. Sam remembered when Dean had been better at it than he seemed to be now, he remembered that Dean used to like school but then all of a sudden, he had lost interest and had left school within a week of expressing the disinterest. He remembered that their life seemed to be more peaceful afterwards for a while, that Dad had seemed to be giving Dean more praise, that Dad had been getting at Dean for weeks before the change. Dean's lack of interest in the library hadn't started until he'd left school. Sam wondered what had happened.

Dean always made sure that Sam kept up to date with his assignments for school, that he had time to spend on them and inadvertently seemed to point him in the right direction for finding the information he needed without seeming to know much about it himself. It wasn't until Sam was at Stanford that he realized how strange that was, that Dean, who, on the surface, despised all things academic, pushed Sam and made sure he did so well.

Stanford, well that had really finished everything off. The wedge that had been positioned in his relationship with his father so many years before was finally driven so far home that the cracks spread far and fast and disintegrated what remained into such small pieces, dust, there was little or no sign of the relationship left. That had been a real turning point in his life, he had walked out on his family and started a new life alone and he didn't regret it. It had been the right thing to do. He became a completely new entity.

Well almost. The one regret he had was Dean. He had left him behind too. The new entity that he had become didn't seem to fit Dean into its edges and when he delved deeply into his heart, it didn't make him comfortable, so he stopped delving. He wasn't entirely happy with that either so he made himself stop thinking about the fact that he didn't want to touch even the edges of dealing with what he'd left unresolved with Dean.

It was difficult to ignore, hell, Dean had always been difficult to ignore but even in his absence, his spectre haunted Sam. Once a month, a postcard would arrive from him. It would say more or less the same thing each time, 'Hi Sam, Hope things are good with you. I'm keeping busy out here in . See ya, Dean.' Sam figured that what Dean was really saying was 'Hey Sam. Still thinking of you and want you to know I'm still alive, not dead at the hands of something evil yet. If you need anything, this is where I am, still here for you, little brother. Dean.' He didn't respond but it kept him strong. His brother had said he wanted him to do well, and dammit if he wasn't going to make sure he did just that.

Then he turned up. Boy, if that wasn't a turning point in his life, Sam didn't know what was. He knew if Dean had ever had even a momentary suspicion that Jess was going to die because he had taken Sam away, he wouldn't have been near Stanford in a million years, probably wouldn't have even entered the state. He knew it wasn't Dean's fault, if Jess was going to die, she'd have died sooner or later. He'd spent an age mourning for Jess, still did but the pain was more distant now and as he looked at it, he was glad that Dean was there when it happened because alone, he wouldn't have coped at all. He hadn't coped at all, Dean had coped and Sam had existed. Until he was ready to start living again, Dean had taken up the slack.

Sam remembered watching Dean dying, lying in a hospital bed, hope gone, death accepted and knew that had been a turning point of a different kind. Dean had turned down a path in which he had accepted his own mortality; Sam had refused to accept it, refused to turn down that path, wasn't going to let Dean die, no matter what. Their relationship had turned at that point, Dean always used to making the decisions, looking out for his brother, being the protector, had been forced to accept a role reversal and when he'd recovered, a new balance had to be found as now neither could be fully protector or protected – Sam was truly Sam and no longer just a shortened version of Sammy, he had been accepted as an adult, an equal, a partner.

Sam wondered where life would lead them next, now he had turned, begrudging acceptance of the path of the hunter, Dean at his side.


	6. Dean: Growing up Responsible

**Turning Points - 6

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**Disclaimer**: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

**Summary**: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters

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**Author's Note**: This is the sixth in what has become a series of snapshots of the Winchesters – A look at some of Dean's life changing decisions. I have backtracked a little and so replay some of the events in the previous chapter from Dean's point of view. This ended up being longer than intended and about fewer events (which may not be a good thing).

I apologise to those people who were hoping I would update quickly - it took me a bit longer to get this chapter sorted into a form that would work (and I was distracted by a couple of other stories that would not leave me alone until I had them down) and then when I had got this one written, my computer went on strike and refused to believe it was allowed to connect to the internet. I have already started chapter 7 so hopefully that will be up in a couple of days.

**_Thank you to those people who have reviewed so far. It really helps me keep going..._**

**_Please continue to review._** Let me know does this chapter actually work or is my feeling of discontent with it right! Maybe this is the downfall of longer pieces – I felt the same way about the last chapter.

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_**Turning Points – Dean **_

Dean knew that he hadn't always got the balance right growing up, that sometimes, he'd just felt baffled by a growing Sammy, unable to remember being like that himself. He'd put it down to Sammy not having a mother's influence in his life. Someone else watching would have told him he was right, he hadn't been like Sammy, but that it was Dean who had missed the mother's influence more. Sammy may not have had a mother but Dean had grown up quickly and tried to fill in the blanks in his younger brother's life, protecting him and taking the blows life threw at them, sheltering his brother.

Dean had loved school. In the early days, he had been shy and reluctant to talk, but he had a keen mind and had worked hard and done all that teachers asked and needed him to and had been popular with classmates. Then his father had begun to move him and his brother around the country, never stopping for long in one place and he had stopped going to school for a while. One day, he'd been particularly bored and had actually said to his father that he wished he could go back to school. He'd been surprised by the shocked look on his father's face, only years later, thinking back had he realized that John Winchester had moved them on and on forgetting Dean should be in school in his immersion into the hunt. The following day, Dean had been at a new school; new teacher, new classmates and working to catch up.

Dean's mind was still keen, so like a sponge, he had soaked up all the knowledge that was put his way. Over the years, it became more and more difficult to balance his home life with the needs of school. Constant moving made it harder to make friends and over time, it hardly seemed worth it when he knew he would be dragged away again. Fitting in assignments once he started hunting with his Dad was a problem but he had learnt to quash the nausea he felt reading in the car so that he could get most of his work in on time.

The part he hated most of all was the looks people gave him. Each time he started a new school, he got the 'there goes the new kid look', it would be followed by the 'there's the poor kid, look at the state of his clothes' and the worst look of all the 'god, what must go on in that kid's home, have you seen his bruises' look. He'd lost track of the conversations with Children's Services and Counselors who tried to get him to confess to the terrible things that were being done to him at home. At each new summons for a talk, Dean would brick up another part of his shell. He remembered when he'd first wanted to tell someone what went on at home, someone who might be able to make it stop, but then they'd started to talk about taking him and Sammy away from Dad. Later he'd always thought Fate had dealt him a rare lucky reprieve that day, that the woman in question, had started to tell him how he and Sammy could be protected from Dad, before he had told her anything about what was happening and whilst she had gone on and on, he had made up the first of the lies that he would tell to protect his father. Dean knew that there was no way they could make Dad stop this life of hunting for the thing that had killed his mom and so he'd said nothing about what was really happening, after all Dad wasn't doing anything wrong. Later when they got too persistent in their digging to find out what sort of abuse he and Sammy were suffering, he would tell his Dad it was time to move on, never mentioning that he'd been summoned yet again. It was the only way Dean could figure out to keep his family whole.

He knew he'd made some crap decisions as he'd grown, times when he'd been so wrong about what Sammy needed he couldn't bare to think about them, but he could never forget them or forgive himself. He had never intended any harm to come to Sammy but there were times when he'd turned his back for just a minute to turn back and find his brother lost, hurt, crying or angry. He always just got it wrong, something good turned sour. Illicit trips to the park that had resulted in cuts and bruises or worse, falls and breaks. Attempts at cooking that left Sam with burnt fingers. A shopping trip during which Sammy had wandered away and Dean had spent an hour trying to find him. Failures that would haunt Dean as he had endangered Sammy, disappointed his father again and again and let down the memory of the promise made to his mother.

As he'd got older, he'd begun to think about life away from the hunt. He'd been fascinated at the possibilities out there. So he had reached his last year at school and teachers were talking about decisions and futures. They'd talked about universities and further studying, Dean had been swept up in the thought of it all and had begun to read the brochures he was given.

Arguments at home had increased as Dean had studied harder, neglecting chores and weapons practice when his Dad wasn't around, only to be found out when his Dad returned. Dean had pushed Sam harder to do well in school and to take the advantages that were there, trying to impress on him how important learning was.

Realization of the cost had dampened his spirits and he had begun to decline the help with applications that he was offered, he knew he wouldn't be able to get that sort of money: University was out of his reach. Then one teacher had caught on to some of the reasons he might have changed his mind and had shown him possibilities that were accessible – ways of getting scholarships, other courses that tied in with jobs so he could work and attend night classes, she tried everything to entice him into something more than just leaving school to any old dead end job or worse, unemployment. He'd smiled and taken the information but hadn't committed himself to anything. She'd taken a drastic step then and called his father, explaining the possibilities for someone so bright. John Winchester had been quiet and controlled on the phone, although she was under no illusions that he thought she was prying in something that was none of her business. She knew the phone call had been a mistake.

That night, Dean had arrived home after working his part-time job, and had been surprised to find that Sammy had already eaten and was finishing up homework in their shared bedroom. His father was still home and not out on a job which was another less pleasant surprise. 'Dean,' the voice was quiet but Dean could recognize the controlled anger, 'Sit down, we need to talk.'

Dean walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table, he looked round trying to avoid his father's eyes, while he tried to work out what he'd done wrong. 'I had a phone call from the school today.' The shock in his son's eyes as they snapped up to look at him had astonished John.

'Why? What did they want? I haven't done anything, or... or said anything Dad. Honestly, I wouldn't... Those bruises last week, they didn't even ask me so I haven't said anything…'

'Why would they have phoned me about bruises?' even now Dean was surprised that his Dad hadn't realized how often he had had to account for the unusual bruising and cuts that were often evident on both his own and his brother's bodies, how many years he had protected his Dad from knowing that people thought he abused his boys, the lies he had told to avoid telling people what really happened and to protect his Dad from false accusations.

Head drooping, Dean rested both elbows on the table and sunk his head into his hands. 'What have I done wrong?' his voice unsure.

'Is there something that you should have told me before now?' the tone was cold and accusatory.

Dean's eyes came up to look at the fury in his father's face. He had no idea where the conversation was heading. His father slammed the university brochures down on the table. Dean swallowed slowly. 'It's alright Dad. I know we can't afford it, I haven't applied yet, but a teacher gave me this' and reached round to his backpack to pull out the information about scholarships and the information about night classes.

'Money' the explosive retort stopped Dean from saying anything further, 'You think this is about money…Stupid… Dean, you are a selfish little shit… It isn't about the money… You have responsibilities… What are you planning on doing about Sam while you go off to god knows where?'

Dean looked down at the table, ashamed, he hadn't thought of Sammy at all whilst talking to the teachers. Dad was right he was a selfish shit. 'And to get a teacher to phone me to try and coerce me into letting you go, that really is low, boy. Do you think it will make any difference?'

'I...I hadn't thought, I didn't know they were going to call and I'm sorry I hadn't thought about Sammy but maybe you and Sam could live near whichever place I go then I can still take care of him when I'm not… I could get a job and earn some money.'

'What? I've waited all this time for you to finish school and you think we can all just mosey on down to some new place while you carry on. Sure I hoped we'd have found the demon that killed your mother but we haven't, so surely you can see it's time you started to pull your weight around here and helped out with more of the hunting. You've got the education you need; it's all a waste of time when you could be doing something important with your life.'

'But Dad… I could do these courses and then I could support us. I could earn us some real money. Not like the crap wages they pay me for stacking shelves. We could have a home, Sammy could settle down get some real friends and finish school and…'

'I'm not going to listen to this crap. You have finished with school. Once this is over, it's time you started pulling your weight. You are going to start helping me properly and looking out for Sam. You owe it to your mother, Dean.'

'Yes sir.'

Dean knew defeat. He knew he had made the promise to his mother and that was something he could never willingly break. He picked up his bag and headed off to bed. Dad had made it clear this was it as far as school was concerned. Dean opened the door to the bedroom and saw Sam put his pen down and turn to look at him. 'You okay? He was in a foul mood when I got home. I thought it was odd he'd made me something to eat. He just told me to hurry up with it and then to stay in here and finish my work. I didn't know what else to do. He sounded pretty angry. What was it?'

'Nothing important Sammy. Look I've had a long day. I'm going to crash. Can you manage with the sidelight?'

'Course, but what about that assignment you were working on? Doesn't it have to be in tomorrow? Have you eaten?'

'Too tired Sam. Leave me be.'

It was the last time school was mentioned in reference to Dean. He got up in the morning, drove Sam to school, making an excuse to his brother about being too sick and going home again. He'd driven home again to face his father.

'What are you doing back from school?'

'No point being there. Do you want me to do anything here?'

'What do you mean no point in being there?'

'You said it Dad, last night. I've got the education I need and it's time I started pulling my weight.'

'What? That's not what I meant. You can finish up this year, then …'

'No point.'

'Dean.'

'I don't want to be there anymore. I don't want to keep slogging all out trying to get assignments in by the deadlines, staying up till all hours because we've been out hunting. Trying to fit in the job, looking out for Sam, helping you. What's a bit of paper going to do? I'm not exactly going to be getting the sort of job where it matters, am I?' He turned to leave.

'Dean. Wait!' He stopped but did not turn back to face his father. 'Look at me,' when Dean didn't turn, John carried on, 'I didn't mean for you to not finish this year, but University, that's a whole different deal and we can't do that right now, you know, maybe, when we've found the demon…'

'No.'

'Why?'

'Because you were right. I've been a selfish shit. I promised you and mom that I would look out for Sam and I've not been doing that properly. I kept thinking about what I wanted, not what he needed.' John moved across the room to put his hand gently on his son's shoulder, as Dean carried on speaking, 'Anyway, we need the money, Sam's growing again and he needs new clothes. One of us needs to bring in some real money, regular money, not just what we can get from hustling. Dad, it's our responsibility, I know that. I'm sorry. I won't let you down again.'

'Dean, we can manage until you graduate,' he spoke quietly, regretting the previous night's argument, regretting the earlier choices that had led to Dean reaching this point with none.

'Dad, let me do this. It's better this way.'

'Why Dean?'

'Because I don't want to watch everyone else applying and getting accepted. Because I don't want to have to justify myself to the teachers who keep pushing for me to apply. Because I don't want to face every day that I can't have it, the dream. This is my path, let me make the choice when to start it; don't make me face the fact that if things were different, it's not what I would choose. If mom were alive, we wouldn't live like this, we wouldn't do this, I could have this dream, but she isn't, so I don't get the dream, that's it. I know I'm being selfish but at least this way I can do the right thing.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Yeah. I know. Me too,' picking up the car keys Dean had headed off for the door.

'Where are you going?'

'To see if I can pick up some work. Maybe I can get a better job. You don't need me for anything do you? I'll swing by and pick up Sam after school. If I can't make it, I'll call you and you can run by for him.'

'OK, son.'

Decision made, path chosen. It doesn't matter whether the choice is made willing or not, the turning point when reached marks the end of one part of a journey and the beginning of the next. Some choices are made for selfish gain, others in self-sacrifice. Some people have a path laid before them that is easy to follow and clearly marked, whilst others follow a rocky trail along which they must stumble, at times unwilling.

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**_Author's Note: _**I hope that both Dean and John seem believeable in this chapter. My intention is not to make John into a bad guy but to tie in with the person in the earlier chapter who made some bad decisions on how to handle his sons and bad choices along the way but someone who did care for his children. I hope that is what I've done.


	7. Dean: Doing the right thing ?

**Turning Points - 7

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**

**Disclaimer**: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

**Summary**: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters

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**Author's Note**: This is the seventh in a growing series of snapshots of the Winchesters – A look at some of Dean's life changing decisions. I have backtracked a little and so replay some of the events in chapter 5 from Dean's point of view

**_Please review._** I hope you all like it.

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_**Turning Points – Dean **_

Dean knew it was coming. He'd seen it coming four years previously. He'd made sure that Sam would have a real choice. He'd hated every minute that he'd thought about what it would really mean and so he had adamantly refused to think about that part of it. He'd hoped things would work out but he'd known life wasn't going to be that easy. After all, hope was just a mirage.

The day Dean had gone looking for a job instead of going back to school, he'd made a decision that no matter what, Sam would graduate and if he wanted, he would go to university or well, whatever else he wanted to do. Dean wasn't going to let Sam miss out on whichever opportunity came his way.

Four years on, Sam left, headed off to Stanford. Dean was proud. His little brother had done good. Yes, definitely proud, it was definitely the right thing. And the other plus was that now, the arguments with Dad would stop because Sam had gone. It had been hard on all of them, the constant battles. Whilst Sam and Dad had fought, Dean had worked quietly, reasoning with Dad and when that failed, helping Sam make all the arrangements and signing the papers that were needed. It was all good.

Dean stopped the car, looking round he barely knew how he'd got here. He'd just pointed the car away from the bus station where he'd let Sam go and floored it. If he was so proud of Sam and he knew he'd done the right thing, why did he feel so bloody awful now?

'I never actually thought it through,' he said to himself in disgust. 'Sam leaving school and Dad meant he was going to leave me too. Why didn't I think about that?' He dropped his head forward to rest on his hands where they still held the steering wheel in a white knuckle grip.

Life had changed and it hurt like hell.

Gathering himself up, rebuilding his protective shell took him a while but once satisfied that he could hold himself together, Dean pulled off and headed back into town. He parked at home, went in to check on his father and finding no sign of him, left a note before heading out to the bar down the street.

By the time his father joined him, Dean was well on his way to ensuring himself the hangover from hell the following morning and was finding it difficult to keep a tight hold on all the pieces of his shield. 'Oh you're here now are you?' he threw out by way of greeting as John approached.

'Celebrating or commiserating, Dean?'

'What do you care?'

'You don't mean that.'

'Really, Dad. Can you be sure about that? After all, it wasn't me who told him he couldn't come back. It wasn't me who tried to stop him going.'

'Well, maybe that's what you should have been doing, Dean. He should have faced up to his responsibility by now.'

'Oh, don't give me that responsibility shit. It worked with me okay because you made me responsible for him. Who do you want him to be responsible for? He doesn't remember Mom, there's no handy little brother to blackmail him with.'

'Is that what you think I did to you, Dean?'

'God knows. I'm going home. I've had enough.'

'Let me help you,' John reached a steadying hand to his eldest son as he stood and swayed. 'You know he was part of this family, he should have been willing to help us, to back us up. That's all part of being a good son.'

'Good son! Is that really what you mean or do you actually mean good soldier? This isn't a life and we're not a proper family – we could have been, even with mom gone, we could have tried harder to make it right.'

'How Dean? How could it have been different?'

'Less hunting, more normal stuff. Sam would have liked that. Less moving, time to make friends, real friends, ones that meant something. We didn't get that.'

'You had each other.' John is quiet, trying to console and appease his son, knowing that it was his choices that brought the family to this pass.

'Yeah. Look how well that turned out.' Dean's voice is weary and resigned; John takes his arm and guides him up the steps to the front door. 'I'm going to bed.' It's the last thing he says before heading for the bedroom. John watches as he opens the door and stops dead in his tracks, not crossing the threshold, just staring into the room, his room. For the first time, since their home in Lawrence burnt when he was four, Dean has a room of his own and this isn't how he wanted to get it and he doesn't want it now.

'You manage there, sport.'

John gets no reply, but watches as Dean pushes himself off from the door frame and into the room, moving swiftly and for the moment steadily to his bed. John is surprised that he hasn't shut the door behind him, but is even more surprised when he reappears carrying a pillow and the covers from his bed, heading for the couch.

'Dean…'

Hand out to halt both his father's words and his body, Dean says nothing but turns to the couch and throwing the covers and pillows down, he sits to take off his shoes and his shirt before lying down and pulling the covers over as he closes his eyes with fixed determination. John watches as the determination not to re-open his eyes is etched into the lines on his son's face. It takes an age, before his features relax and he actually falls asleep, only then does John get up and go to his own bed. Maybe life without Sam wasn't going to be plain sailing either.

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_**Author's Note: **The end of another chapter. Where to next I wonder? Who do we want to see more of? Will get to work on another chapter tomorrow and fingers crossed will post again soon._


	8. Dean: Home Alone and Feeling Sick

**Turning Points - 8

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**

**Disclaimer**: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

**Summary**: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters

**Author's Note**: This is the eighth in what has become a series of snapshots of the Winchesters – A look at some of Dean's life changing experiences. This one occurs earlier than the last couple – poor Dean – Home alone with a Sick Sammy.

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**_Please review._**

Pizza-pixie who is such a great reviewer, suggested some Sammy sickness for Dean to feel guilty about – so this is my attempt at that tosay thank you for her reviews.I had to go looking for information on NHSDirect to find out about the symptoms and the treatment (then try and convert the UK treatment to that given in the US so hopefully I've got the same stuff – I don't know whether there is a child-friendly version or what the instructions on Tylenol say about children taking it – plus over the last few years here a whole new load of stuff has come out for children to take which wouldn't have been available 14 or 15 years ago when this is set – dare say Medical advice has changed on both sides of the water in the last few years). As the NHS site didn't say whether the rash itched or not, I phoned my mum who wondered at the bizarre questions I was asking.

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_**Turning Points – Dean **_

Sometimes Dean wondered if life was just about acquiring guilt. After all, he seemed to go through life picking up more guilt trips than things he knew how to cook from the local store. At times they came thick and fast and in all honesty, most of them involved Sam.

The guilt had started when Mom died; he knew that more people than he could remember had told him it wasn't his fault. She hadn't died because of something he had or hadn't done. Somehow that wasn't enough for Dean though, somehow he just always felt that he should have done something or that maybe it shouldn't have been her to die.

He set out again to do his best and not let anyone down and that's when Dad entrusted Sammy to his care. He'd not long finished mastering all the different items of clothing he himself wore down to his shoelaces and buckles when he'd had to start learning fast what to do with Sam's clothes. From clothes to food to playing, Dean had gradually got them sorted. Things hadn't gone too badly along the way, although each time Sammy fell over, Dean hated having to clean up his brother's knees and hands and wished that he could just find someway of making sure that Sam didn't hurt himself because that was when he needed a mom most of all.

The first time Dean had truly felt out of his depth with a sick Sammy on his hands had been an unfortunate error all round really. Dean was 11 and well used to looking after Sammy by then, picking him up from school, watching over him while he did his homework, making sure there was some sort of food served up at each meal time.

On this particular occasion, he had been tired himself and figured maybe he'd got a bit of a cold and his body was fighting it, so when Sammy first started to complain about being tired, Dean hadn't even thought to mention it to his father and instead had given Sammy more help with his homework than usual, an early dinner and had then packed Sammy off to bed early. He'd followed not long after himself, having finished off his homework and cleared up the kitchen, finishing off by checking the doors were locked before turning the lights out and settling down thankful for the peace. John had come home a couple of hours later and was surprised that both boys were in bed and asleep, dead to the world. Feeling grateful for a night off with nothing to hunt and peace from his sons, he had sorted himself out some food and a drink to relax knowing that he had a busy few days ahead if he was to track down the werewolf, he had been researching. He checked over his research for one last time before heading to bed himself, knowing he would need an early start the following day if he were going to head off to get the werewolf and be back within a couple of days.

The following morning, John had to wake both boys, which was unusual as normally one or other of them would have woken up full of beans and raring to go. Both pulled themselves from bed wearily, complaining that they would rather just stay there. John had chivvied them along, maybe they were coming down with a bit of a cold or maybe they were just trying to see if they could get him to stay and not go after the werewolf. To be honest, it didn't really matter which, after all neither was any great shakes and they would have to get used to dealing with stuff like that or they were going to be weak links in his vision of the future as they got older. Looking at them as they slouched over their cereal, both had runny noses and watery eyes. When Sam started to sneeze, it was Dean who said, 'Dude, tissue or hand, I don't care which, but don't sneeze in my direction, you can keep your own germs, 'cos I sure don't want 'em, I feel like I've got enough of my own already.'

John had smiled at that and pushed a box of tissues over to Sammy, who'd just whined, 'I don't feel good Dean.'

'Sammy, you'll be fine, it's just a cold. Looks like Dean's got the same. You've only got today at school and then you can both rest over the weekend.'

'But Dad, I feel bad. Can I stay home? I'm tired and I hurt all over.'

'Come on Sammy, you're not such a baby, you're going to let a little cold get you down, are you?' Dean's not complaining. One day, that's all, the two of you can watch TV all day tomorrow if you like.'

'Okay,' as he agreed, he pushed the rest of his cereal away and got down from the table, heading back to the bedroom.

'So Dean, you know what to do this weekend, right? You'll be okay? I should be back on Monday – if I can, I'll be back before you guys head off to school, but don't worry if I'm not here then 'cos I'll definitely be back before you're home again.'

'Sure Dad.'

'Good. I'll go as soon as you two head off to school.'

Dean nodded and swallowed another mouthful of cereal before he too, got down from the table, leaving the rest of the bowl. He stopped at the kitchen door and turned, 'Dad?'

'Yeah, what?'

Dean knew his father was already focused on the job ahead and he'd only half got his attention. He persisted anyway, 'What should I do about Sammy's cold? He doesn't seem well, can you stay? Maybe go after the werewolf next weekend?'

John looked up for a minute at his eldest son. 'Sammy's cold? Don't worry Dean, he'll probably be right as rain by the time he finishes school. There's no need for me to stay. It's nothing you two can't handle. You're almost grown now; you can look after Sammy just fine.'

'But what if he's not?'

'Get him to eat something, drink plenty and put him to bed. If he won't go, just get him to rest in front of the TV and cover him up there.'

'Will that be enough?'

'Course it will. Listen if he gets really hot, then give him half a Tylenol and some soup and put a cool cloth on his head – he'll love the fuss, you know what he's like. There's nothing to worry about. If you feel really bad, you take one too – you can have a whole one.'

'How often for Sammy?'

'What? Dean, you're worrying too much, he's going to be fine, and you won't need to do anything. Okay, sport. Now you'd better go get your brother or the two of you will be late for school.'

'Right. Bye Dad. See you Monday.' He'd turned back to leave the kitchen and get Sammy. Casting one last look over his shoulder, he saw that his Dad had already put the conversation out of his mind and was back thinking about the hunt. He sighed and left.

Looking in the bedroom door, he saw Sammy, laid down on his bed with his eyes closed. 'Come on kiddo, we've gotta move it or we're going to be late.' Sammy slowly pushed up off the bed and picked up his school bag.

'Dean, can I stay home? My head hurts too.'

'Sorry, school it is. You've got that Spelling Quiz today; it'd be a shame to miss it now you've learnt all those words.'

'I suppose.'

At the end of the day, Dean's cold was in full flow, nose and eyes streaming and an incessant cough that was making his throat burn. He couldn't wait to get home and just collapse and he just hoped that Sammy was going to be quiet; he really didn't feel up to running around after him. He made his way round to pick Sammy up from the playground. As he approached, he saw Sammy sitting on a swing, listlessly rocking back and forth, not a sign of the usual energetic bounce. He felt slightly guilty alongside a sense of relief that it looked like Sammy's cold had got worse too and so maybe he'd get away with convincing him to just curl up and rest.

'Hey'

Sammy turned to face him 'Dean, can we go home now? I don't feel good.'

'Sure. Let's go. We can just curl up in front of the TV tonight. What do you think?'

'I think I just want to go to bed, my head hurts.'

'Okay, we'll eat and then bed.'

'I'm not so hungry.'

'What did you have at lunch?'

'I dunno, I didn't feel so good then.'

'Sammy, did you eat your lunch?'

'Just a bit. I wasn't hungry.'

'Don't worry. We'll be okay, I'll sort it.'

As they got in, Sammy had dropped listlessly onto the couch, not even bothering to reach for the remote to turn the TV on. Dean shut and locked the door behind them and headed to the kitchen.

He went to the cupboard and hunted through the tins until he found the soup he was looking for. If Sammy's throat felt anything like his own, this would be the best thing to eat. He opened the tin and started to heat the soup in a pan on the stove. When the soup was ready, he leaned round the door to call his brother. Getting no response, he walked through to fetch his brother and was surprised to find him asleep. Flicking the light on, he shook his brother gently, calling his name at the same time.

As Sammy woke, he opened his eyes, 'Aargh! The light! Turn it off!'

'What's the matter?'

'The light, it hurts my eyes,' Sam moaned as Dean flicked the switch for the main light leaving just a side light on.

'Okay, we'll just leave this light on. You stay here and I'll bring your soup in on a tray. I want you to try and eat a little bit. Deal?'

'Whatever.'

Sammy had managed only a small part of his soup before giving up but had managed to drink more of the juice that Dean had also brought through for him. When both boys had finished all they were going to eat, they headed off to bed. Dean knew Sammy was feeling really bad as he usually liked to stay up late watching TV when Dad was away but on this occasion was more than willing to head to bed.

Dean checked on Sammy one last time, before appreciatively relaxing into his own bed, leaving just a lamp on at the side of the room to make it easier to check his brother later during the night.

Later didn't happen. Dean's best intentions to check on his brother regularly went by the by as his own weariness took hold and dragged him deep into sleep. He didn't wake until the following morning when he was surprised to see sunlight shining through the bedroom curtains.

He got up, still feeling heavy and cold-ridden. He walked over to his brother's bed and looked down at where his brother lay still asleep. Seriously unlike Sam, who was never known to sleep in on a Saturday, always desperate to drag Dean off to a park or off to explore some new place he'd discovered or game he wanted to try out, Dean wondered what to do, whether he should leave him sleep or wake him up. He decided to leave him a while longer and to sort himself out first.

He showered which helped relieved some of the stuffiness he was feeling. He grabbed the juice from the fridge and took a Tylenol, following his Dad's suggestion. He put a small amount of cereal into two bowls and poured the milk on. Then with both bowls and some more juice on a tray, he took them through to the bedroom. 'Come on, Sammy. You've got to have some breakfast.'

'Dean, I feel horrible. I hurt...' and with that Sammy began to cough. When the coughing finally eased, Dean helped him drink some juice and then eased him back to lean against the pillows he had propped behind him. Putting his hand against his brother's forehead, he could feel the heat pouring out. 'Dean, I don't want anything to eat.'

'Okay, Sammy, but you've got to drink some more juice. I'm going to get some ice to chill it some more. It'll make it slide down easier.'

'Uh-huh.' Sammy's eyes drifted closed again.

It took him moments to top the juice up and get some ice and on his way back, he grabbed a washcloth soaked with cold water. 'Come on, Sam. Drink some more, please.' A half –hearted attempt to drink some juice led to a grimace from Sam.

'It hurts, Dean. When's Dad back?' Dean shook his head and then folded the cloth resting it on his brother's forehead. Sammy moved his hand to scratch behind his ear.

'Relax, Sammy. Do you want to stay here or shall we move through and watch TV?'

'I'll stay here.' His hand still worried at the itch behind his ear. 'But Dean?'

'Yeah, what? Don't scratch, you'll hurt yourself.' He moved Sammy's hand away from his ear.

'Dean, will you stay with me?' he moved his hand back and started scratching again.

'Yeah, I'll stay. Will you stop that? What's with the scratching? You got fleas or something?' Dean held Sammy's hand still, away from his head, keeping it still on the top of the covers.

'Dean, it really itches. Will Dad come home soon?'

'Lean forward, let me look.' As Sammy tried to sit up, he started to cough again. Dean held him still until the coughing eased and stopped, then he leant over for the juice and helped Sammy swallow a few mouthfuls. Putting the glass back down, he positioned Sammy so he could look at the area he'd been scratching. There he got a distinct view of a rash of reddish-brown spots. 'Shit.'

'Dean, Dad doesn't like it when you say words like that.'

'Yeah well, he's not going to know unless you tell him. Now listen, you mustn't scratch, you've got spots and you'll only make it worse, whatever it is, if you scratch them.' With that he helped his brother lay back down, propping him up on the pillows to ease the coughing bouts, then tucking his hands under the covers in the hope it would deter Sammy from scratching further.

'Dean, what is it?'

'I don't know, but you'll be okay. Maybe you just touched something you shouldn't. It'll be fine. I need you to keep drinking and to rest.' Sammy closed his eyes and just listened to his brother's voice as Dean kept on talking about something and nothing, until he drifted back to sleep.

Dean got up and took the breakfast dishes back to the kitchen and cleared them up. He made sure the ice tray was refilled and put it back in to freeze and that there was plenty of juice ready for Sammy to drink. Then he went and got another dampened cloth and took it back through to Sammy to replace the one he had left on his forehead. He figured when Sammy woke up next, he'd get the Tylenol down him and see if that helped.

As he lifted the cloth on Sammy's forehead, he was worried to see more of the same type of spots across his face and spreading down his neck now. He decided not to leave it any longer but woke Sammy up to take the Tylenol. Irritable wasn't the word, Sammy was downright pissed at being woken up and still not allowed to scratch. Having convinced him to take the medicine and to have more to drink to help it go down, he tried to get him to eat something but had given up when Sammy had another bad coughing fit after a couple of mouthfuls of toast. Instead he picked up the book Sammy had been reading a couple of days ago, finding the page where he'd finished, Dean began to read to his brother, all the time trying to keep his hands still, pinned gently but firmly under one of his own.

'Dad?' his brother's voice croaked.

'Don't worry. He'll be home again before you know it.' Dean reassured his brother. It didn't matter how often he said it, he didn't feel the reassurance himself, but just hoped it was enough for Sammy. It was worrying that Sammy kept asking for Dad because when he usually had a cold, Dean's undivided attention was enough to keep him contented. Dean felt his own body sag with the effort of sitting up and looking after Sammy, so he shifted his younger brother's body across the bed and sat himself down leaning against the headboard, staying close and soothing his brother as best as he could.

For two days, Dean barely left Sammy's side; he nodded only when he could no longer keep his own eyes open and he tried everything he knew to keep his little brother's temperature down, but apart from refreshing the damp clothes and getting him iced drinks he was at a loss as to what else he could do. It didn't help his cold any to have him not resting or eating properly but he pushed his own feelings aside and determinedly faced the challenge of caring for Sam himself.

Finally Monday morning dawned, Sam's rash had spread over more and more of his body and Dean was beside himself with worry having stayed up all night, soothing his brother with damp cloths and keeping his hands still so he didn't scratch. His brother had slept almost constantly over the weekend in the semi-darkness of their bedroom, unable to stand more than a very dim light and Dean still hadn't managed to get him to eat more than a couple of mouthfuls of anything.

The wait seemed interminable. He had hoped against hope that his Dad would really do as he had said and return before school was due to start, but there was no such luck. He finally turned up after lunch, walking in to see Dean in the kitchen fetching more juice and ice. 'And what exactly are you doing at home, young man? I've told you before, there's to be no skipping school when I'm not here. It's a bad example to set to Sammy and I won't have it.'

'I…I've stayed home to look after Sammy,' Dean's throat was so sore, the words were barely audible. 'He's really sick and I didn't know what to do, Dad.' John could hear the desperation and exhaustion in his eldest's voice.

'I'll go and see him. I'm sure you're worrying over nothing.' As his Dad left for the bedroom, Dean slumped in a chair, elbows resting on the table and head held in his hands. He didn't know what else he should have done for Sammy but he'd tried to hold it all together, he just hoped everything would be okay again

John had recognized the rash which had ravaged Sammy's body, a definite bout of measles. He looked just like his brother's boys had done the last time they'd gone to visit, getting there to find the boys were ill. Tucking Sammy back in, John rose and moved back to the kitchen, surprised to see Dean sitting at the table. He had fallen asleep with his head resting on his arms.

He'd stopped himself just before shaking Dean awake, instead moving the chair away from the table enough to pick his son's body up and carry it through to his bed. Just for a moment, he felt unbearably guilty. What kind of a man would leave a child like Dean to look after their younger brother? The memory of the morning he had left stabbed viciously at his conscience, showing clearly now the signs of both sons' illness and the worry and concern in Dean's face that he wasn't going to be able to look after his brother, the fact that both boys had asked him to stay but that he had still put the hunt ahead of his boys. He pushed the guilt down, it was a useless emotion anyway, far better to be getting on and doing something than spending time when it was too late to change anything, pondering the question. Life goes on, regardless and so did the Winchesters.

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_**Author's Note: **Please review and let me know if it worked. I've never had measles myself and my younger sister had it whilst I was away on a school trip so I have had to write this piece entirely from the information I researched so fingers crossed it seems okay._


	9. Sam: Is it worth the cost?

**Turning Points - 9

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**

**Disclaimer**: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

**Summary**: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters

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**Author's Note**: This is the ninth in a series of snapshots of the Winchesters – A look at some of Sam's life changing experiences.

**_Please review._**

I decided it was time to have a look through someone else's eyes again (I could spend far too much time with Dean! If you know what I mean.) Mind you, although this is Sam's P.O.V., it still centres quite distinctly on poor Dean who gets to do some suffering.

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**_Turning Points – Sam _**

He remembered when it happened and where he was at the time and it was one of the most loathed memories he had. In some respects he hated it more than the knowledge of what had happened to his mother. He knew it marked the change and he still thought Dean had deserved better and Dad should have known better. The fact that Dad thought it was all good and Dean just sucked it up and went on as if it was fine didn't help. In fact, the more he thought about it, he was almost as angry at Dean as he was with Dad and that didn't entirely make sense.

It was all about choices. The problem was he and Dean didn't have any but Dad, well he seemed to have plenty but he, at least as far as Sammy was concerned, seemed to consistently make the wrong one.

They had both been training and sparring for as long as he could remember. For protection, well that was what Dad had always called it but Sammy had realized that just like most parents 'lied' to their children about Father Christmas and the tooth fairy, his Dad lied about his motivation for what they did; they all believed their intentions were good. Sam wondered if that was enough for his family, particularly given the possible outcomes. Right now, aged 15, he couldn't see any good endings if things didn't change and it had been that way since he was 9.

Now he knew more and that night and the following day still didn't seem to sit any easier in his mind. He knew Dean remembered Mom, he knew Dean would do anything to protect him and he knew that, unlike himself, Dean would blindly follow his Dad no matter what – or at least it often seemed that he would. He knew there was one exception to that – anytime Dean thought Dad was putting his younger brother in danger, but that didn't make life any easier for Sam. In fact, the older he got, the more he felt like he was as bad as Dad for endangering Dean, it was just done with less foresight and intention, it didn't make him convinced that it wasany more acceptable.

That night, the first time Dean had actually hunted with Dad was etched indelibly into Sam's brain. The false bravado that was now so much a part of Dean had really kicked into gear then. He'd seen it before, in fact he was pretty sure that Dean had been using it from the first time Dad hadn't come back when he should and Dean had been left looking after them both and making sure that everything carried on as it should. It wasn't really a part of Dean, it was like a coverall helping to prevent mess spreading. As he grew older, Sam wondered which way the mess was being stopped from going; from inside Dean to the out or from outside to the in.

It was funny that he remembered more about the run up to that night, the event and its aftermath than he did his own first hunt. Well not funny, but something; nothing was funny about their life. They had trained intensively for years, fitness and stamina, martial arts and boxing, weapons training. He remembered being about six, at school and the other boys in his class talking about the latest toy gun that one of the other kids had received for a birthday and wishing that he could have had a toy gun instead of a real one, wishing that he didn't know how to shoot, why they learnt to shoot and that he didn't have to spend his life cleaning it and practicing how to use it properly. By that stage, Dean, aged ten, had a collection of weapons under his bed, knives and guns, and not a single reminder of the child that he should have been, no footballs or baseballs. Dean wasn't a child at ten; he was a warrior in training.

That night wasn't the first that the boys had been with their father when he went hunting, it was just the first that either of them had actually been part of the hunt. Usually, they waited in the car for Dad to come back, Dean armed to the teeth with absolutely anything he might be able to use to protect his brother if something came there wayand a bag of distractions to keep his brother occupied, colours and paper, homework, playing cards and books and hidden somewhere, the last resort, some candy as a bribe in case he wouldn't keep still and quiet. It had become quite a familiar routine for Sammy to pass the time quietly in the back of the car with his brother – it was in a bizarre way, their time and their world, almost a respite from the constant moving, the training, their father, a warm reassuring constant in a dark and transient life. He remembered the comforting feeling he would get, when fed up of colouring and cards, he would curl up against his brother and Dean would read to him until he drifted into sleep.

Maybe that was part of the reason that night stuck so vividly in his mind. It had dragged interminably, so much longer than any other time his father had hunted, Sam had thought it was all over, father and brother killed and he was the only person left in the world, then he would look back at the clock and see barely any time had passed at all. Without Dean there, he didn't want to colour, do his homework or read; he just stared aimlessly out of the car window as if it would bring his brother back sooner.

Dean hadn't wanted to go on the hunt and had argued ferociously with his father. Those sorts of arguments were few and far between, when Dean would actually stand up against John Winchester's decisions, but in some ways, it made them more focused, more anguished in their fervency. He remembered Dad accusing his brother of cowardice and the shutters coming down on his brother's eyes and the argument was over. He also remembered that to that point that Dean's argument had not been about whether he should go with his Dad but about leaving Sammy alone in the car unprotected. Dad had accused Dean of hiding behind his younger brother. Even though he hadn't fully understood everything they were arguing about, Sam had known then just as well as he knew now, that Dean never hid behind Sam and never would, that he always put Sam's safety above his own. It was a low blow and one guaranteed to ensure Dean's acquiescence to his father's orders.

He knew that they had parked just off the road out of sight and that the two of them had set off for an abandoned house with a poltergeist down the track, leaving him in the car. The family had moved out intent on protecting themselves first. Sam wondered now, what the father of the family would have thought had he known that the stranger he had paid to sort out the problem would be taking his son, newly 13, with him. That father had been willing to abandon the house to ensure his family was safe, not considering the cost, putting his family first.

Sam remembered acutely the relief he had felt when he saw his father and Dean staggering back down the path to the car, having stared into the darkness blindly for so long. The first assumption that it had been a rough fight and that both of them were exhausted had disintegrated as they came closer to the car. He could see the pain on his brother's face, he recognized the concern in his father's eyes as he rushed from the car to help, the initial relief being replaced with near-panic as close up he could see blood spreading across the shirt Dean was wearing and running freely from his head.

Poltergeists – he still hated them now. Whenever he and Dean faced one, he really wanted to stand between his brother and the evil they faced and save him from whatever was coming because he hoped that one day it might replace the memory of that night. He knew that was the night he had stopped being a child and faced up to the enormity of what their life really meant. He fully appreciated for the first time the reality of his life: he could lose his family at a shot now, a misstep, an accident; it wouldn't necessarily take a lot of evil to leave him alone in the world. A world he didn't know how to face without Dean. A world he hated for what it did to his family. A world he didn't want to be a part of.

Back in the car that night, John had done the bare minimum to staunch the blood flow from his elder son's injuries before starting to drive away leaving both boys on the back seat, their positions reversed from the norm. Sam, used to falling asleep wrapped securely in his brother's arms, hung onto Dean now as if holding him tighter would keep him alive. His brother lay limply, barely breathing and Sam wondered what made them deserve this life, would there ever be a way out for the two of them with their father or would they have to leave him behind.

John had driven for two hours without stopping to check on Dean himself, counting on the strength of both boys to keep him alive and breathing. The one thing John knew was that Dean would fight for Sammy to be safe and protected, and that he believed himself to be the one to do that protecting, and so John also trusted that the younger son's arms would keep the older fighting now until he could stop and look properly at the damage done.

Finally he pulled off the road into a motel parking lotand went to see if they had a room. He'd changed his shirt before going to check in, removing the one soaked with his son's blood and throwing it to the passenger seat, replacing it with a clean one from the bag in the trunk. Returning to the car, he drove to the end of the lot, parked as close to their room as he could, then passing the door key and first aid kit to Sam he had got out of the car and opened the rear door, manoeuvring Dean's unresisting body so Sam could get free to open the motel door. As his brother's warmth left him, Sam heard a moan escape from Dean's lips, the first sound from his brother since they had reappeared after the hunt. Sam didn't know whether to be reassured or more worried, but was comforted that the one thing his brother seemed to be aware of was his presence or rather his absence.

John was right behind him as he opened the door, carrying his brother to the bed nearest the bathroom and laying him down gently. Sam closed the door, passed his father the first aid kit and went back to lean against the door. He watched in silent horror as Dean's t-shirt was cut open to reveal the damage below. He remembered his father's words, 'It's not too bad, it just looks it.' That was the moment he fully realized the difference in priorities for life between sons and father. Dean would fight to protect his brother and himself but didn't like to injure anyone seriously. Sam had seen him fight off the playground bullies, using his skills to manoeuvre them into capitulation and exerting enough pressure to gain submission but not actual serious physical injury, just the warning that he could do it, so they better not try anything again. For himself, Sam didn't like violence and wanted nothing more than a peaceful life. John was different; he chose this life, seemed to relish the fight with evil and accepted injury as a minor hindrance along the way. That was the biggest part of the problem; he accepted not just his own injury but his son's as an irritant, a hitch not a glaring unacceptable state to be in. For the first time in his life, Sam really wanted to make something, or more truthfully, someone suffer for the injustice heaped on his brother and that was awkward to understate the situation, because even though he knew the poltergeist had injured Dean, Sam blamed his father for it. Funny that, because at fifteen, his conviction hadn't changed, he still blamed his father but now the list of transgressions was longer, he wondered if it would ever stop without one of them being dead.

'Get the towels and bring me some water to clean him up.' Sam didn't move, just stared at the image of his brother before him, the image burning irrevocably into his memory. 'Sam, pull yourself together, towels and water quickly. Let me get this sorted then we can all rest.'

'Rest?' Sam was incredulous. 'I won't rest 'til he's okay.'

'Well, get the towels and water then.' This time, Sam went. It's for Dean he thought, not Dad, Dean needs me to do this, follow Dad just a bit longer. Bringing them back, he put them on the table next to his father and moved round to the other side of the bed, resting his hand on his brother's shoulder.

'Sammy?' Dean's voice was barely even a whisper as he tried to crack his eyes open and look for his brother.

'I'm here, Dean. You just rest okay, we'll sort out here and you'll feel better when you wake up.'

'Uh-huh. It caught me by surprise. I think it was pissed off. Threw some stuff, I didn't see it, now it hurts a bit. I think we got it though, kiddo.'

Sam looked at his father, who nodded that they had indeed got the poltergeist. 'Course you did bro'. I knew you would. Now just hang on, Dad's gonna clean you up.'

'No! I can do it!' Dean's attempt to lurch upwards caught both father and brother by surprise. It was the pain from the movement that caught Dean by surprise, however, and he visibly paled as his breath caught and he held himself rigid unable to work out how to move to stop the pain.

Sam moved behind him, taking his shoulders and supporting his weight as he pulled him back down onto the bed, 'Hey, it's okay. It's easier to let Dad do it. It's in an awkward position for you to get at. It's no big deal.' He hated himself for saying it, for lying to his brother because it was a big deal, his brother shouldn't be here in this much pain with these injuries but means to an end and there was no way Dean could do it himself . He glared at his father, who just nodded encouragement that he should carry on holding Dean and keeping him calm, before starting to clean the wounds on his stomach and chest.

Sam reluctantly accepted that in fact, most of the wounds were fairly shallow and that it was the amount of them that had led to the overall bloody appearance of Dean's torso rather than the depth of them. Dad had strapped Dean up as the bruising appearing readily, hinted at the possibility of broken ribs. He had also cleaned up the head wound and put a couple of stitches in to make sure it held closed.

Once he was patched up and cleaned up, Dean had quickly fallen asleep. 'Get yourself to bed now Sam,' his father's voice broke the silence in the room.

'No.'

'Sam, I didn't ask if you wanted to go to bed. It's late, you'll go now.'

'No. I'm going to stay and watch Dean.'

'This is not open for discussion. You will get changed and get into bed now or you'll feel my hand.'

Sam looked at his father, making clear with one look what he thought about his father's instruction, but moved to do as he had been told. He got into bed, closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing as if he were asleep, but in reality, he lay listening for his brother.

'Dean, you're going to have to toughen up. You can't afford to make those sorts of mistakes again. You've got away lightly this time but if I hadn't been there, or had been further away, things could have been worse.'

Sam couldn't believe his ears and nearly gave away the fact that he wasn't asleep as he listened to his father blame Dean for his injuries. Indignation rolled through every muscle in his body and he had to force it down underneath to maintain his pose of relaxed sleep. His father moved to the bathroom and then got into his own bed.

Sam lay in wait until he was absolutely certain his father was asleep. It didn't take long for him to hear the snores that were typical of the elder Winchester's sound sleep. He got up and moved to his brother's side. Dean had moved from when Sam had gone to bed. It was odd but as he looked at his brother asleep, he realized that somehow Dean had moved subconsciously across in the bed leaving a Sam-sized space at the side nearest Sam's bed, the same space he left when there was a thunder storm or when Dad was away on a hunt, knowing that at some point his younger brother would move from his own bed for reassurance that his world was still solid, seeking out the constant in his life, his brother. He sighed and climbed in alongside Dean carefully, gingerly trying not to disturb his brother. 'Sammy…' a whisper for his ear alone.

'Yeah, it's me, Dean. You okay?'

'Am now.' Dean's arm moved across to rest over his brother, as if Dean also needed to know that some things never changed, his brother was still here and protected. Both boys fell asleep aware, not of their father's snores, but of one another's breathing, in and out, in synchronicity.

The following morning, an angry John Winchester had woken Sam, dragging him silently sideways from the bed. Dean had woken instantly, 'Sam... Sammy?'

'I…I'm here, it's okay…' the surprise at being woken so viciously evident in his voice, 'Just go back to sleep.' He looked at his father's face for reassurance and got none.

''S okay. Awake now.' Dean's eyes rested on his father far quicker than Sam's had reached the same place. Dean said nothing but Sam knew he had taken in the firm grip that Sam was held in. 'Sorry.'

'What?' both Sam and John looked at him in surprise.

'I woke you up last night. I was uncomfortable and I couldn't get warm – I dunno, it helped you sitting by me.'

'But…' Sam started to respond.

'I guess we were both really tired if you feel asleep next to me. I'm sorry you must have had a rotten night.' John's grip relaxed on Sam's arm and gradually released completely, his hand coming up to tousle his hair.

'You should have woken me up, kiddo, if Dean wasn't feeling good. I'd have looked after him.'

Feeling traitorous at letting his brother shoulder the blame, Sam said, 'I didn't mind. He's my brother: I'd do anything for him.' Sam knew that whilst he felt guilty at letting Dean take the blame for him climbing into the bed, he also knew that they'd both needed the reassurance.

'Well, in that case, you dive in the bathroom first. I'm going to check your brother over and when you're dressed you can go and find us all some breakfast.'

It seemed reasonable so he set off to do as asked. Coming out of the bathroom, his father gave him some money and he set off. He'd got halfway across the parking lot when he remembered what he had overheard the night before, when his father thought he was asleep. He'd doubled back and hung outside the window which was cracked open, out of sight but listening to the conversation between his brother and father.

The conversation had obviously already started as soon as he had left, but he could pick out his father's voice with no difficulty, Dean's voice was too quiet for him to hear the responses. He heard his father again blame Dean for his injuries. 'You can't allow yourself to lose focus like that.'

There was a pause, during which Dean must have replied. 'You let it get your knife, Dean; it threw that at you, amongst everything else.'

He wondered what Dean said next, because it was hard to imagine how but his father sounded even more pissed off. 'I know it was the first time you'd been on a hunt, but that's no excuse, there are more different types of evil out there than we know about, you can't let yourself get injured every time you come across something new.'

Another pause in his father's flow followed by, 'Yes, you had better be better next time, otherwise you're worse than useless. I've spent years training you, I expect you to be an asset on a job not something else for me to worry about. If you've been paying attention… don't interrupt me, boy… if you've been paying attention, you should be able to handle this sort of thing without me, that wasn't even a vicious poltergeist as these things go.'

Sam waited, sure his father hadn't finished. 'Yes, I know you're sorry and so am I. But I am counting on you. You have to be a good soldier Dean, Sammy and I need this from you?'

Sam always remembered the feeling of almost choking on the indignation he felt that he was being used against his brother this way, but also knew he had had to go and find some breakfast before he was caught out. He would have to let Dean know he didn't agree with what his father had said when they were alone.

At fifteen, he knew he had spent the intervening six years, trying to convince Dean that they could get out, that this didn't have to be their life. When Dean had left school and got a job, he had believed for a short while that maybe Dean felt the same way and that he was just biding his time until he had got enough money to get them somewhere to live. At the same time, he had to acknowledge that he had heard his father's arguments with increasing frequency about why they did this, why they were needed, until he had succumbed with plenty of resistance and reluctance and taken part in hunts himself. He loathed every minute of it and couldn't wait until he was old enough to have an out. He just couldn't bear the thought of leaving Dean behind, or leaving behind what was left of Dean. His brother was a shadow of who had once been, absolutely formidable in a fight, single-minded and relentless, but away from the fight, he seemed to almost be a non-person. No-one who hadn't known him before would have seen it, because Sam also recognized that Dean was a consummate actor. When they went anywhere, Dean would flirt with the girls, charm the women, pal along with the guys and never give a hint of who he was. He followed Dad's orders unquestioningly, but even when Sam really looked at him, he couldn't find him, he just didn't seem to be inside, truly inside his own body any more, it was just the remains of his brother. He always worried that it wasn't the poltergeist that had done that to Dean but the conversation with his father the following day and that if he'd not turned away so as not to get caught, if he'd walked in and confronted his father that his brother would still be truly Dean.

But in Dean's own words, guilt gets you nowhere, actions speak louder than words and so Sam had started planning. He knew that he could get out, he just had to figure a way to get his brother to go too, and he had another year and a half to workthat part of the planout.

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_**Author's note:** Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. Reviews would be appreciated. _


	10. John: A Life full of mistakes

**Turning Points - 10

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**Disclaimer**: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

**Summary**: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters

**Author's Note**: This is the tenth in a series of snapshots of the Winchesters – A look at some of John's experiences.

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**_Please review._**

As John seemed to turn out quite bad in the last few chapters, I decided it was time to re-write some of those events from John's point of view, to give an insight into his motivation and the bits that Sam missed out on (teenagers often misread parents – perhaps John wasn't quite as bad as it seemed in the last chapter, plus Sam didn't hear the entire conversation between Dean and John). Now some of you will know more about John than I do, as I have only seen as far as 'Shadow', so I don't know what happens with John and what sort of person he turns out to be (so forgive me if I'm wide of the mark). If it's really bad let me know and I'll remove this chapter.

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**_Turning Points – John _**

He'd been wrong; he knew that now, could admit it now but only to himself and that didn't help. It just made him feel more guilty and that didn't do any good. He had once heard Dean say to Sam that guilt was useless and would get you nowhere and action speaks louder than words. He couldn't remember what they'd actually been talking about before and after but those words had stuck with him. Dean was remarkably perceptive at times, more so than his father that was for sure.

He regretted it, most of it anyway but it was too late to change it. You can't go back. So even if he admitted to the boys what he'd done, it wasn't going to change what he'd done and what had happened. He would just be seeking out some level of forgiveness – something he no longer believed he deserved. The chances to change their paths had been there and he'd ignored them, forcing the boys down this one road, hellish as it was.

He had loved his boys, still did with what little was left of his soul, his beautiful baby boys and now they were grown, handsome, strong, righteous and broken. And the only part he could really lay claim to was the broken. The rest they had done for themselves, for each other and for the memory of their mother.

It had started the night Mary died. He knew that all along he and Mary had told Dean he had to be a great big brother and look out for Sammy, taking care of him but that night when he had wanted to run screaming into the flames to join Mary, but instead had sat outside watching in desolation knowing he couldn't leave the boys, she wouldn't let him, he broke Dean for the first time. He hadn't known what else to do because he knew he himself had been broken and he was hoping that somehow, maybe, just maybe, Dean would be able to fill the gap for Sammy. It was wrong, he should have let Dean cry and be the little boy he still was, instead he told him he had to be strong and look out for his brother and he had reminded him of the promise he made to his mom the day Sammy was born.

From there on in, he had broken the pieces smaller and smaller, he had taken years to do it because Dean was remarkably resilient but he'd been a persistent son of a bitch and he was a firm believer that he had finally done it. He thinks it's amazing that Dean lasted so long but that's probably down to the first break or maybe the promise he's not really sure, because they're almost the same thing. Dean is strong for Sam that fact is undeniable, absolutely incontrovertible, while Sammy was there, there was nothing that Dean wouldn't do or withstand or fight so long as he could protect Sam.

He'd carried on chipping away throughout Dean's childhood, except Dean hadn't had a childhood really. He'd dragged him round the country, place to place, motel to motel, hunt to hunt, never letting him settle anywhere, never letting him make lasting friendships, never letting him see what it really meant to be normal, how normal people lived, never letting other adults into their little world in case they really saw what he was doing. School to school, hovel to hovel, heaping more and more responsibility onto his shoulders, 'Look after Sammy for an hour, Dean.' 'Look after Sammy for the afternoon, Dean and get some dinner in.' 'Take Sammy with you to the Laundromat. Dean.' 'We need some shopping getting from the store on your way home from school and don't forget to pick up your brother.'

He'd nearly stopped when he got back from that werewolf hunt. He still remembered walking in the house and seeing Dean there when he should have been at school. His first reaction not what it should have been 'What exactly are you doing at home, young man? I've told you before, there's to be no skipping school when I'm not here. It's a bad example to set to Sammy and I won't have it.' Not 'What's the matter, Dean, what are you doing at home?' Not 'Are you okay, sport?' but an accusation of skiving, a declaration of 'I don't trust you to do the right thing, Dean' but just phrased in different terms. Then the discovery, Sammy in bed with a bout of measles, and a cold-ridden Dean exhausted from three days of non-stop care for his brother. He'd made a silent promise to the boys that day that he would pay more attention, see the warning signs, believe them when they said they were ill but unlike the promise Dean had made when Sam was born, he'd broken it time and again, each time breaking his boys a little more, but they hadn't known about that promise. Dean had still believed promises couldn't be broken and it had kept him strong. His promise was like a shield protecting both himself and his brother.

John wondered if that was when he broke Sammy for the first time or if maybe he'd done it earlier. It was harder to know with Sammy. Thinking back, he couldn't really remember a time when Sam had not wanted to be with Dean. When he was ill or tired, he had always wanted Dean by him, and as soon as Dean had been able to read, it was Dean who told him bedtime stories. It was Dean's food he wanted, Dean's time he wanted. At some point, he became his brother's shadow.

Somewhere along the line that had changed, John was sure that now although they still acted as though Dean led the way and made the decisions, that somehow Sam was the one who was still solid and that Dean was the shadow. They were no longer two people, that much was for sure, they had become one unit, only able to function when they knew where the other was. He just wondered what would happen when they couldn't be together anymore, because the time was coming, he could see it in Sam's eyes. He wondered if Dean knew and what he would do. Would he lose them both?

He knew Sammy had never liked the fighting, the guns and knives and practise. He knew he had done well at it to please Dean, to be like Dean, his hero. All the things he had wanted to be for his boys when they were first born, their own home-grown hero he had failed to be but Dean had somehow managed to do and be them for Sam.

And Dean… had he liked the fighting, the weapons, the hunt…? No, in honesty, John knew he hadn't the fact that Dean believed he did like it now was testament to Dean's dedication and loyalty to his undeserving father and John's tenacious denial of any other options. At first convincing him had been easy. All it took was 'If you do this, you'll find it easier to protect Sammy.' Deceit. If John had chosen to protect his boys, instead of seeking vengeance, Dean wouldn't have needed to protect Sam in the way he did.

Dragging Dean into the hunt had nearly killed him. John still had nightmares about the first time he had taken Dean with him to hunt down a poltergeist. He had not prepared his son well enough for the situation, he hadn't been old enough at barely 13 but John had bullied him into it. He had accused him of cowardice before they had left, when if he had truly listened to him, he would have heard the spoken and the unspoken messages Dean had been giving. The spoken message was a genuine concern that Sammy shouldn't be left alone in the car, even though he at the same age had been not only left in the car, but left at the motel and any other place John saw fit and looking after his brother, but they both agreed on one thing Sammy was different to Dean, they just didn't agree on how to deal with it. The unspoken message, clear in his body language, the amount of times he had cleaned his weapons and checked that Sammy had everything he needed, was screaming to be heard 'Dad, I don't feel ready, I'm afraid of what is going to happen, I don't want to do this.' Ignoring the messages; you would think that one experience like that would have been enough to teach a man of John Winchester's intelligence that listening and heeding his sons was something he needed to do but no, some things he had just refused to learn.

In truth, he wasn't sure whether it had damaged his relationship with Dean more or whether in actual fact it was Sam who had been ultimately more broken by the experience. He remembered dragging Dean back to the car, the blood, his baby boy's blood, oozing, seeping, covering his hands, Dean's t-shirt, slipping down Dean's face, his boy getting weaker moment by moment. He remembered covering the worst of the wounds as he left him in the back of the car in his brother's arms. He drove recklessly, eyes barely on the road; more time spent watching his sons in the rear-view mirror. His youngest clinging on, a lifeline for his brother. He remembered carrying Dean into the motel room, laying him on the bed, the relief once he'd removed Dean's t-shirt that although there were lots of cuts across his front, they were shallow, nothing life threatening. He remembered how he had bound his ribs and sewn stitches into his forehead – the first time of many. It should have been the first and the last, it should have been the point at which it stopped but it wasn't, he'd kept on dragging his boys down.

He remembered leaning over his son as he had slept and the thoughts that had run through his mind and come out softly, forlornly into the air above his sleeping form. 'Dean, you're going to have to toughen up. You can't afford to make those sorts of mistakes again. You've got away lightly this time but if I hadn't been there, or had been further away, things could have been worse.' And what he had wanted to say, 'Dean, I need you to be strong for me, because I can't see you hurt like this. I shouldn't have taken you there, you weren't ready, you should be a child and I'm ruining you. We've been lucky this time, you will be okay but I could have lost you in there.' The words he should have said, if not then, when they spoke in the morning.

The morning had not gone well, he had woken to find Sammy sleeping in Dean's bed. Instead of carefully waking and moving him, in anger he had dragged him out of the bed, afraid that his usual restless snuggling would aggravate Dean's injuries. He had frightened his youngest and woken his eldest who could have done with more sleep, only to find that Dean had wanted Sam with him. He wasn't convinced that Sam hadn't gone to Dean first but Dean had wanted him to stay, needing the comfort and reassurance he got from being the big brother, they were one another's constant.

He had sent Sam out and tried to talk with Dean about the previous evening's events. 'Dean, I need to talk to you about last night. I'm sorry you got hurt. The poltergeist was bad, it was hard. I need you to know something, when we fight something like that you can't be looking out for me, trust me to look out for myself, don't divide your attention. You can't allow yourself to lose focus like that.' John remembered how Dean had tried to apologise and explain how he was worried about him. He had knelt by his son's bed earnestly. 'Dean, you mustn't look out for me. You need to keep all your wits about you. Poltergeists are tricky bastards. You let it get your knife, Dean; it threw that at you, amongst everything else. They'll use anything that isn't fixed against you.'

He'd seen tears welling in his son's eyes, and Dean's voice spoke of his conviction that he had failed and let his father down. 'I know it was the first time you'd been on a hunt, but that's no excuse, there are more different types of evil out there than we know about, you can't let yourself get injured every time you come across something new.' It was a harsh truth, evil gave no quarter, and evil wouldn't sit back and take it easy until Dean had gained experience. John needed him to be strong.

Dean had made another promise, adding it to the protection of Sammy, that he would train hard and get better, and the first of the tears spilled over onto his cheek, tears that John had never known how to handle and so had always squashed at the first sign, hoping it would make his son stronger. 'Yes, you had better be better next time, otherwise you're worse than useless. I've spent years training you, I expect you to be an asset on a job not something else for me to worry about. If you've been paying attention… don't interrupt me, boy… if you've been paying attention, you should be able to handle this sort of thing without me, that wasn't even a vicious poltergeist as these things go.' He felt like a bastard when he treated his son like this but if he coddled him now, it wouldn't protect him in the face of evil.

'Yes, I know you're sorry and so am I. But I am counting on you. You have to be a good soldier Dean, Sammy and I need this from you. Sammy and I love you too much to let you die; we need you to be focussed in the fight because we can't risk losing you.' He hoped it was enough to bolster his son's spirit.

He'd done it differently with Sam, it probably wasn't any better really but it had been safer. He had picked an easier first job and he had taught the boys to fight together and had sent them in together, they were a unit, Dean's experience and focus guiding his brother. They had all come out unscathed. He did learn from some mistakes. It didn't solve the problem he had now though – a son who was leaving and a son who was left, half of a fighting unit, half of his sons, an empty shell of what used to be his first-born boy. Where had the life and vitality that epitomised the child Dean gone?

He'd managed to keep Dean with him all this time by using the promise like a binding spell. Dean would never leave Sammy. He'd used it to stop him finishing school although that had never been his intention. He could remember the shock and fear when he found out that Dean was thinking of leaving to go to University. If Dean left, the family would be broken, even John knew Dean was the glue, the one part of the family that truly worked as it should, holding father and brother together, looking after them, Dean made wherever they were 'home'. It hadn't been until much later that he'd realised how amazing Dean must have been in school, how despite being dragged round the country, never at the same school for long, they'd manage to keep him at the last one for almost the year and that had been a first. His teachers had believed in him, wanted to help him, were willing to go out on a limb for him and John had destroyed that and Dean's future in one single conversation and he had used an unknowing Sam to do it.

He wondered now if Sam knew what had happened, had Dean ever told him or smart as he was had he worked it out. One thing was certain, Dean's unfailing loyalty to his father was not reflected in Sam's eyes. Sam's eyes showed disgust now when they looked at his father. When he was younger, it had been disappointment as if he had been waiting for John to change and make things right, John had never done it and Sam no longer waited for it. In fact, John no longer counted. As far as Sam was concerned, family was Dean: mother, father and brother rolled into one.

When Dean had returned home, the morning after that conversation, leaving Sam at school, they had talked. John could see the disappointment in his eyes, matched by the resignation in the lines of his body. He should have taken that opportunity to put it right, but he didn't, he let Dean walk out on school and into a job that wasn't enough for him. John had filled the gap between what Dean was and what he could be with the hunt and Dean had become a formidable warrior but when he came home for Sam, he was still there in the ways his brother needed. Looking back, John was amazed, it was what he should have striven for, but he hadn't managed it at all.

Dean hadn't let him do the same to his brother. Dean had protected Sam and let him keep his dreams, had cherished and nourished those dreams. John knew what was going on, he knew that each time he denied Sam a future, Dean took another step to pave Sam's way to that future, to make sure that it could happen. John was proud of them both. They had done it all despite him but even now he wouldn't say it and he would continue to fight it.

Sam was leaving that much was certain, it had always just been a matter of when. Dean and John both knew he was going. The only question remaining that really mattered was what would Dean do. The better part of John hoped he would go too, the bigger part wasn't going to let go so easily. He had started to watch both boys closely for a clue. He knew that Sam had looked into ways to take Dean with him, ways Dean could finish school, training courses Dean could try but he also knew that Dean hadn't committed to going with him yet. John wondered why.

Dean had stayed. It was a long time since he'd been as truthful as he had tonight when John had found him in the bar. He watched him as his body relaxed into sleep, finally giving in. The fact that he was sleeping on the couch and not in his room said volumes. Dean didn't know who to be, how to be without Sam. He couldn't even face their room without his brother.

It was time to move on. Dean would focus on the job, the memory of Sam would fade at least for a while and John knew that he was lying to himself if he thought it would be alright. He had broken his boys and he'd never meant to do it, but once he'd started he hadn't known how to stop and make it right, he just didn't have the strength to do it on his own.

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_**Author's Note: **I know there is very little new about this chapter but I wanted to try and mellow John a little. There is one more 'chapter' to go. Posting that very soon. _


	11. Dean: the end or the beginning?

**Turning Points – The end

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**Disclaimer**: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

**Summary**: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters – now all set pre-series.

**Author's Note**: This is the final in a series of snapshots of the Winchesters – We finish as we start with a reflective Dean

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**_Please review.

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_**Turning Points – Dean **_

Dean had been driving for more miles than he could keep track of, more hours than he wanted to count, along a road that was straight and unchanging into the distance and had been so for miles behind. It was at times like this that he could enjoy the simple things in his life. The car was riding smooth, the music was loud and no-one was bitching about it, the sun was shining making the day around him beautiful. He'd been driving for hours but it was fine because the job he had finished had gone well. He was heading back to the motel to his father and he had made a decision. He was going to repair what was left of his family. He would talk to his father, reason with him and then he would head to Stanford to do the same with Sam. It had been almost two years since Sam had left; it was time to heal the rift.

There was no sign of human life in any direction – the only signs that there ever had been humans were the unending black of the road and the regulation rows of the crops on either side. Out here Dean thought he could almost believe the world was at peace. He could almost let himself think that there was nothing evil left in the world and that maybe, just maybe, he could stop hunting and find a new life. He ran that idea around in his head for a while. He remembered the dreams of the future he had had when he was younger but now, he didn't know what he could do instead of hunting. Maybe, if he could heal his family, something would come along. Time, time heals all wounds, if he waited long enough maybe that would be true. For the minute, he would let the sunshine keep his spirits up. If he didn't believe it would work, his family would stay broken.

It struck him that his life was not unlike the road journey – endless, unchanging as he aimed to a goal. Then all of a sudden the road would come to a junction and he would have to turn, left or right, one choice or the other. A turning point. His life was like that.

There had never been any opportunity to try things out to see if they suited. Each choice, left or right, north or south, black or white, Sam or Dad. Not a balance, but a decision, no u-turns allowed. Well he wasn't going to put up with that anymore. If he had to go back and forth over the same ground, it wouldn't matter. He was going to convince his father and once he'd done that he'd go to Stanford and convince Sam. Dean had to believe it would be all alright when he'd done it, so for now, he drove, aiming for the motel where he was due to meet his father.

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_**Author's Note:** And so it ends, to my mind just before Dean finds out his father is missing. _

_Thank you to all those people who have stuck with the story and read this far. In particular, thank you to all those people who have reviewed and to those who reviewed more than once let me say you are wonderful! It's not too late - you can still review and I will still appreciate it! _


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